


The Chain's in the Attic

by strawbeehouse



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Homoeroticism, Horror, Original Character - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbeehouse/pseuds/strawbeehouse
Summary: (A detective investigates a small house once owned by a talented doctor, and his wife, on a lonely street corner. The wife took her own life, or so it is said. The gardens outside are a tell on how old the property is, overgrown, and has a strange tendency to harbor the corpses of animals.)I looked at the house before me, reminding myself of my partner’s words.“It’s a simple job.”It was a simple job. Find evidence that there was any money left in the house, bring it back to the client, and cash the check. Easy.He was supposed to come back last night, but when I came into the office this morning, I found nothing. No sign he was there; no sign he had ever gotten back. I called his landline, but no one answered. No note, no word, nothing.
Kudos: 2





	The Chain's in the Attic

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt given to me by the lovely @Sam64_VA on twitter (show him some love)! Part of the summary is actually the prompt he gave me (the part in parentheses specifically). I'm considering making this into a series so let me know what you think. Enjoy! :D

I looked at the house before me, reminding myself of my partner’s words. 

_ “It’s a simple job.”  _

It  _ was _ a simple job. Find evidence that there was any money left in the house, bring it back to the client, and cash the check. Easy. 

He was supposed to come back last night, but when I came into the office this morning, I found nothing. No sign he was there; no sign he had ever gotten back. I called his landline, but no one answered. No note, no word, nothing. 

My mind returned to the scene I was faced with. An old house, overgrowth and rott having taken the property to hell and back. Nothing completely unusual for the countryside to have. The rich abandon that which they consider to be inconvenient history, and this was just another remnant.

_ “Y’know, they say some lady offed herself in that house. You got one half of the town saying she ate rat poison, and the other claiming she hung herself.” _

_ “Hanged. Hanged herself, Dufresne.” _

_ “Whatever, she’s dead. Poor gal… say you can still see her image in the fog when it gets real dense.” _

Just my luck that the fog rolled in just before I got there, but that alone wasn’t what unnerved me. If it was, I wouldn’t be any good a detective. No, it was the smell of decay in the air. Not the decay of wood typical to properties like this, however. It was the decay of flesh. Old rott mixed with fresh blood were clear to my senses as I walked through the overgrown garden leading to the front door. Old paint chips remained on the wood, reminding those who could bear through the odor of the garden that the door was once a shade of red. Not as bright as that which stains the leaves, but it was once probably lovely, to someone at least. 

“No, no, focus, Crow!” After taking a moment to collect myself and my thoughts, I reached for the door handle. 

The door creaked open just before I could touch it, cool air slipping out. I steeled myself, pushed down my doubt, and entered. I looked around the threshold and noticed an old sign on the wall. The paint had worn, but the message remained semi-clear. 

_ Please take off your shoes before entering! _

I looked down below the sign, seeing one pair of shoes. Brown, lace-up oxfords with a scuff on the right shoe. 

_ “Are you kidding me? I just got these and they’re already scuffed.” _

_ “It’s a pair of shoes, Dufresne. Just shine them and they’ll be good as new.” _

His shoes. Did this mean he was still here? 

“Only one way to find out,” I muttered to myself as I continued inside. The floorboards creaked loudly under my footsteps as I made my way into the living room. The inside of the house was in about the same state as the outside. The furniture and walls were dank from the days of rain we get in this town, and fog seeped in through broken windows. By all accounts and definitions, this place was abandoned. Strange it was left in a state like this, though. I kept my hands in my pockets, though my fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting against the fabric of my jacket. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed two things. First, there was no smell of rotting food. One look in the fridge and freezer confirmed for me that it had been cleared out long ago. Second, there was a chewed-through box of rat poison, along with two dead rats. I winced at the sight, distracting myself from the vermin by inspecting the box. 

_ “You got one half of the town saying she ate rat poison…” _

Lo and behold, the box was half-empty. Maybe Dufresne was onto something for once… My hands tensed as my thoughts wandered, just staring at the chewed-off corner of the rat poison box.    
  


“Shhhhhhh…”

A chill ran down my spine as hushed whispers came over me. I gripped the box, crushing the edges and causing some pellets to spill onto the floor, bringing me back to reality. In my moment of haze, I hadn’t realized my heart was racing.

“Nice going,” I noted sarcastically, sighing before putting the box back, “Focus on finding him so you can get the hell out of here.”

I exited the kitchen without a moment’s hesitation. Entering back into the living room, I investigate the hallway leading out from it. In it were three doors: two on the left, and one at the far end. I checked the closest one on the left, and found what appeared to be what was left of a master bedroom. Inside there was a large bed worn by time, two doors, and a nightstand. One of the doors appeared to be an empty closet with a few metal hangers to spare. I opened the second door, finding a small bathroom. In it was a toilet, a mirror covering a medicine cabinet above the sink, and a bathtub. I turned the faucet to the sink, but no water ran. 

“Figured as much.”

Moving on, I opened the toilet bowl, finding full grimey water, but empty of any excrement. There was however, something metal at the bottom of the bowl. After steeling myself and taking off my leather glove, I stuck my hand inside. Cold, slimy water coated my hand in residue I tried not to think about as I grabbed the object and yanked my hand out of the water. I looked up from the toilet and at the object I managed to retrieve. On seeing it, my blood ran cold. 

_ “Hey, Dennings, have you seen my lighter? The silver one, not the red plastic one.” _ _  
  
_

_ “It’s on your desk, remember?” _

_ “Oh, I guess it was. Thanks!” _

The silver lighter, soaked and unable to spark. But why was it in the toilet of all places? He wouldn’t just drop it and not try to get it back, though he would’ve been upset it no longer worked. At least he had the red one, as much as he hated using it. Could never get the thing to work on the first go… 

I gripped it with determination. I’d find him, even if it killed me. As I pocket it, I made a mental note that he owed me for dry cleaning. Luckily, there was a towel I could wipe my hand with, though it felt about as gross as the toilet water. I got up, next inspecting what I would find to be an empty bathtub. After that was the sink, also empty, though the drain had black hair peeking out into the sink bowl. Having decided that my hand would be going nowhere near strange substances in the bathroom again after the toilet, I moved on to the medicine cabinet. A quick look in the mirror before opening reminded me how tired I was, with deep dark circles under my eyes and short, messy brown hair sticking up as though I had just gotten out of bed. Putting the image aside, I examined the contents of the medicine cabinet. Inside was about what you would expect. Pill bottles, cough syrups, and bandages. The prescriptions were written out to Cybil Gladstone. 

Gladstone… Gladstone… the name was familiar, though I couldn’t place it. I turned the pill bottle slightly to read the name of the medication. By the look of it, it was an antidepressant I couldn’t pronounce to save my life. Only reason I knew was because I took the same one. I picked up another, seeing it was also written out to Cybil Gladstone. That one was for prescription-level ibuprofen. At least pronouncing that one wasn’t a nightmare. A quick look at the rest of the bottles showed they were mostly painkillers, all empty. One stood out, being written to a different name: Victor Gladstone. Why was his name so familiar…? Whatever, there were bigger things to worry about. I put the pill bottles back, and closed the cabinet. I looked back in the mirror as I shut it. Did… did the room behind me get darker? I know there were no lights, but I got there no later than noon. Along with that, the bags under my eyes were more intense than when I last looked. No, I was just imagining things. The derelict house I found myself in had a way about it- an air of melancholy- that clarified itself with each moment I remained here. 

Then I heard it. The sound of a baby wailing. But, this house was supposed to be abandoned, right? Either way, I spared no time in rushing out of the bathroom, not noticing the mirror shatter as I leave. 

In the hallway, I heard the baby’s cries grow louder. I looked to the next door on the left, then to the one on the far end, pinpointing it as the source. I ran over to the door and turned the knob, bursting in to see… no one. Instead, all I saw was an old crib in the center of the room, seemingly nothing in it. The wails began to quiet as I approached it. The room silenced as more fog from the broken windows seeped in. All I could hear was the sound of my heart pounding in my chest as I looked inside the crib. All I saw was a small, dead rat and a key with a label strung to it. I didn’t know whether I should’ve been relieved or terrified, but I pushed down both. I needed to figure out where my partner was. With my goal in mind, I picked up the key, reading the label. 

_ Truth _

Confused, I flipped over the label to see what the other side said. 

_ Office _

Where was the office, and what did it have to do with “truth”? I took a shaky breath in, looking up from the crib. The sky was getting darker, and thick fog rolled in through the broken windows. When did it become night…?

Thunk.

I looked up, hearing a thud from above. Then another, a bit further away, toward the hallway.

“No sense in dawdling, Dufresne,” I muttered to myself, pretending, or maybe hoping he heard me. With that, I turned around and ran out the nursery door. I looked to the final door and approached, key in hand. With a click, it unlocked, and the door opened. Inside was the first working light source I had seen in the house: a dim desk lamp barely illuminating the desk in the otherwise dark room. As I stepped in, the stagnant air I had been breathing in for the past… however the hell long I had been in here… it was dusty, smelling mostly of stale incense and cigarette smoke. I went over to the desk, seeing then there was a journal and an old typewriter. The chair was pulled to the side, and maybe it was all the walking I had been doing, but I felt the need to just

_ Sit. _

_ In front of the desk, I open my leather-bound journal and begin to write.  _

_ 10/18 _

_ I’ve never been the best at keeping journals, but my lovely Cybil was so kind as to bind this for me for our anniversary. I’ll be sure to treasure this, and may the ink I use to write in this be put to good use. I’ll try to keep updating you daily.  _

_ V.G. _

I read that, and thumbed through the rest of the pages. Out of all of them, that was the only page that wasn’t blank or torn out. I wasn’t sure what that meant for them, that V.G. Those initials… I had seen them somewhere before. That’s when it clicked.

“Victor Gladsto-” my words were swiftly and rudely interrupted by coughing, dry but intense. I haphazardly put down the journal onto the desk, though I could hear it drop to the ground soon after. Just like that, I could breathe again. The dust in there must have been getting to me. After shaking it off, I continued inspecting the desk. It was nothing elaborate, only having two drawers. The one closest to the floor containing letters from decades ago and the one above it having only a single sheet of typed paper. 

The letters were mostly bills kept likely for record purposes, though at the bottom of the drawer were some handwritten love letters between Cybil and Victor. I smiled a bit when I saw the smooth cursive of Cybil’s handwriting spell Victor’s name on the envelope. 

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

Another sound from above. I looked up from the letter and to the ceiling. That's when the lightbulb in the desk lamp suddenly shattered, leaving the room in darkness. I left my flashlight in the car, and while I could’ve gone to get it, I was too deep in the rabbit hole to just climb out. I needed to find my partner. Maybe it was my determination, or perhaps Dufresne’s, but I thought back to the lighter. Instinctively, I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out the lighter as a memory creeped into my mind. 

_ “Hey, Dennings.” _

_ “I’m busy, Dufresne.” _

_ “It’s important.” _

_ “Yeah? What is it?” _

_ “... My dad, he’s in the hospital for pneumonia.” _

_ “Oh. Sorry to hear. Is he going to be okay?” _

_ “They… don’t think he will be. I just wanted to tell you because I was thinking about something he always used to say. Y’know how reflection is. When you’re out of time, your life flashes before you like a movie.” _

_ “What did he say?” _

_ “Well, he always said that when you’re trapped in the dark-” _

I flicked on the lighter, and it managed to spark. 

_ “- trust the light to guide you out.” _

The flame brought me back, and I saw through the dim light the room had caught up the rest of the house. The sudden odor of decay made me gag on the air, though I managed to catch my breath and somewhat compose myself. In my disgusted bout, I hadn’t noticed the letter was no longer in my hand. When I looked back to it, a fine layer of gray ash that coated my hand was all that remained as the rest spilled out, disappearing before it could hit the floor. I dusted off my hand on my pant leg and continued with my investigation. When I looked back up at the ceiling, I noticed a hatch door with a lock leading presumably to the attic. 

“Looks like I need a key. Again.” I went back to the desk, inspecting the paper from the last drawer. On it was a simple, typed message.

_ She doesn’t understand them. _

_ She will. _

“Them…?” I asked myself, not that I could answer. 

Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

That sound again. What was up there? I looked back down to the drawer, and far in the very back, there was a small key. I quickly looked back at the paper.

_ You don’t understand them. _

_ You will. _

I did a double-take as a shiver ran down my spine. The flame of the lighter went out almost on cue. When did that-

A bone-chilling scream rang throughout the house. And not just any scream.

“Dufresne!” I shouted, swinging the chair around to stand on as I unlocked the attic door and pulled myself up. The door shut behind me, and I heard the lock click right after. The barest amount of moonlight flowed in through the only window in the attic, dimly illuminating the room and everything in it. As my eyes adjusted, I saw something large hanging from the ceiling, and then I realized what it was. 

Dufresne. Unconscious, hanging by his wrists in chains, and still wearing his clothes from the day before, barring the shoes still at the threshold of the house. Without a second’s hesitation, I ran over to him to try to free him. Blood, dry and peeling off, had dripped from his ears and tear ducts. 

“What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?!” I grumbled to myself as I fumbled with his restraints. The chitters I heard below became louder, and the light brighter. Whatever was up here was getting closer, “Come on, come on! I’m not going to leave without you Link!”

“Shhhhhhh…” 

I took out the bobby pins I had stored in my back pocket and managed to pick the lock, causing him to drop just barely into my arms. I kneeled down before gaining my bearings and picking him up. When I turned around to rush out, I saw something. My eyes transfixed on it, like a car crash on repeat. Even if I tried I couldn’t describe it. Where something concrete should have been, there was only an abstraction. Colors in purest and most muted forms swirled together into a void. An abyss I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.

“ _ Y’know how reflection is. When you’re out of time, your life flashes before you like a movie.” _

He wasn’t wrong then. Every move I made in this house has only proven that. I can feel myself running out of time. I drop to my knees, barely keeping a grip on Dufresne.

_ “It’s a simple job. No need to worry about me.” _

_ “Hard to do that when my partner is an idiot.” _

A piercing ringing reverberates through my being.  _  
_ _  
_ _ “Aw, you love me!” _

_ “Yeah? When you get back, you and your love still owe me dinner from last week.” _

Burning tears flow from my eyes.

_ “Are you asking me out? I should be flattered.” _

I shouldn’t have let him come here. Now we’re both going to die.

_ “Don’t be. I have standards.” _

Screaming and whimpering and crying crashed into my mind all at once. Pain indescribable as it came closer.

_ “Yeah, you go with that. Just do me a favor, will you?” _

_ “And what would that be?” _

_ “If the client comes by, Mr. Glad something or other- whatever, his first name is Victor- let him know I’ll have the info by tomorrow morning, ‘kay?” _

That name. It was him. 

_ “Mhm, just start on it, and keep me updated.” _

But… why? Why any of this…? 

_ “You got it, Dennings.” _

Screaming.

Crying.

I shouldn’t have called him an idiot. 

Light. 

I’m sorry Link. 

Closer.

Into an endless abyss.

Silence.

\--

The ringing in my ears slowly silences as I rise to consciousness. My vision, though blurry, burns as my eyes water. As it clears, I see someone I never thought I would again.

“Dennings…?” I ask weakly. No response. Then I see the tear-like blood flowing down his cheeks. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I shoot up in front of his face, just barely avoiding the image of  _ that _ . I start shaking him by the shoulders to snap him out of it, “Dennings! Wake up! C’mon, I won’t let it hurt you!”

Nothing. My heart pounds in my chest as I begin to panic. 

“Dennings! Crow, wake up!!”

His glassy eyes slowly focus on my face, and his tears run clear. I try to stand up, though my knees won’t stop shaking. My muscles ache from hanging, but I refuse to let that endanger my partner. 

“Just focus on me, Crow! I’ll get you out of this. Just focus on my eyes.”

\--

His eyes are a slate gray, like the sky in a blizzard. The noise begins to die.

\--

“That’s right! Like that!” I affirm, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. He stumbles a bit, but manages to regain his balance.

“We should run,” he notes.

“No shit, Dennings!” I respond, tightening my grip on his hand and booking it to the hatch, Dennings in tow. He catches up quickly and tries to unlock the hatch, but no luck. 

“What do we do now?!” I ask, starting to panic. I could hear the chittering getting closer, and the air becoming colder and colder. In that instant, he stepped onto the hatch and jumped, breaking the already weak wood and falling to the ground with a roll, “... That works!”

With that, I hopped down and rolled to avoid breaking any limbs. Dennings pulls me up and starts to run, this time dragging me. That  _ thing  _ chitters and squeaks louder and louder as we run further away. The two of us burst out of the office and into the hallway, making the biggest break for it as it’s form cracked and fragmented, finally dissolving into white rats. 

“Come on, Dufresne!" he shouts, catching me looking back at the creature. I nod and run with him, out of the hallway and into the living room. Almost there.    
  


\-- 

Almost there. We can make it. We can make it! I look ahead, my deathgrip on Dufresne’s hand firm and steady. I drag him forward to be at my side as we run through the threshold. 

“Keep running! We’re getting closer to the car!” I yell, the smell of decay hitting me. 

“Got it!” he yells back. 

The rats stopped chasing us after the garden, but we kept running. We skid to a stop just before reaching the car. Dufresne holds onto my hand for dear life as I unlock the car and shove him into the backseat. I close the door and open the driver’s side and hop in. After I lock the doors, I look back at Dufresne. He passed out almost as soon as he landed in the backseat. He deserved the rest.

Day was starting to break. With that in mind, I start the engine and drive away.


End file.
